


Aftermaths & Afterlives

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Character Development, Fluff and Angst, Multi, OT3, One Shot, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14586318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: A hypothetical ending to Netflix's Castlevania where after the defeat of Dracula, Trevor returns to the ruins of his home and the trio say their final goodbyes to each other.





	Aftermaths & Afterlives

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to have a third part, but I wasn't happy with how it was turning out. Also I may be jumping the gun with this fic since season 2 hasn't even been released yet but personal headcanons and all those disclaimers.

What is home? How does one define it? How long can it last? Questions Trevor Belmont has been asking himself for quite some time now.

He used to have a simple answer: home is a large manor built from the strongest stone, guarding its inhabitants from the horrors of the world. All his life, Trevor put his absolute faith in this answer. Then his first home failed to do the one thing it was built for. The fire taught him a harsh lesson; an important reminder, something the last surviving Belmont carried upon his heavy shoulders while traveling. The worst kind of evil doesn’t always take the shape of hellish monsters.

Trevor’s second answer following that night: home is a couple pints of ale to warm his bones and dull his anger. If he was lucky, a quiet corner where he could sleep without getting mistaken for a spittoon by other drunken patrons. Even luckier, a bar that didn’t come with inbred countrymen looking to take out their fears on a man who just wanted to drown himself in his drink.

Third answer and the one Trevor never thought he would hold the closest to his heart: home is not a place or a thing. Home is another person. More specifically, a Speaker, a pirate, and a dhampir prince. In the beginning, they merely tolerated one another as most on-edge strangers would. Yet it’s amazing how much the end of the world can bring together such a motley group. During the rare moments when they weren’t fighting for their lives or for the fate of all Wallachia, Trevor found comradery, perhaps comfort, in their presence.

He’d even go as far as to call it an odd sort of love. And never once did it make him weak. Soft, yes, but not weak.

Now peace is finally upon Wallachia. Although, it is a peace that feels uncertain, brought about by equal parts bloodshed and perseverance. After retracing his steps for many miles, his head high and his lips untouched by hard beer, Trevor stands in front of what used to be the Belmont Manor. Still a mess of ash, stone, and burnt wood. Just as he left it months ago. Sadly, no one has even thought about rebuilding it.

That is until now. The last son of the House of Belmont has returned home, and with a new mission, or rather a new task, on his hands. He cautiously walks over the wreckage as blackened wood crumbles under his boots. Making his way further into the skeletal remains, he ends up in what used to be the main hall. Despite the number of times alcohol has softened Trevor’s mind, memories of the manor stay fresh and sharp as ever. He can’t decide whether it’s been for the best or worst.

This recent goal of his doesn’t seem like much, especially when compared to everything he’s just endured. Still, Trevor is no less determined to see it through to the end. Trevor has always been good with his hands. Whether it’s using them in a bar fight against five other men or while offering his personal brand of awkward yet genuine comfort to a friend. He’s also managed to pick up a talent for mending things both tangible and intangible – wounds, weapons, even his own unorthodox life (a slow, imperfect yet steady process).

Trevor cranes his neck and stares upwards, examining whatever’s left of the once grand building. He then looks down at himself; his calloused, well used hands included. _Yes_ , he thinks. _This could work_. He could do it, there’s no questioning that. But can he do it on his own? There’s only one way to find out.

Trevor spends the rest of the day and the next morning clearing out as much rubble as possible before he can begin restoring the manor. Which, he now admits, is an incredibly daunting task. His hair is tied back with only a few loose strands hanging over his eyes while his palms are dirtied with soot. Occasionally, he rests amongst the pieces of wood to wipe the sweat from his brow and pick out the multiple splinters irritating his hands.

He finds himself in the middle of the Belmont library, recognizing the remnants of an old stone fireplace just off to the side. _I wonder…_ After dusting away a thick layer of dust mixed with ash, Trevor unveils something he thought was destroyed in the fire or stolen during his absence: a once bright and ornate tapestry that hung high above the fireplace, stretching almost as wide as the room itself. It shows the long, nearly mythical history of the Belmont lineage in grand detail, from the storied victories of Trevor’s ancestors all the way to the many triumphs of his mother Sonia.

Or rather, it used to. Now it’s just a mess, devoid of colour, beyond a simple repair. _It’s just thread and fabric_ , Trevor tries telling himself as he grabs a single piece of rough, frayed textile. He holds it in both hands, afraid it will completely unravel if his fingers make one wrong move. _It can be replaced_. Trevor knows deep down how untrue that statement is.

In the midst of his bittersweet reminiscing, Trevor hears an odd noise. It sounds like rocks gently falling on top of one another. He raises his head, one end of the tapestry still in hand, and widens his eyes in surprise. The old fireplace is rebuilt, not a single stone out of place. Trevor stands up, pleasantly shocked by the sight in front of him. Only one possible explanation for what just happened comes to mind but he dismisses it as wishful thinking. Until he turns around.

Sypha stands a few feet away from Trevor, her fingertips raised and glowing. She seems relaxed, content, perhaps even more than that. She feels a surge of happiness for so many things. Happy that Wallachia has been spared, happy that the Speakers can live without fear, and last but not least, happy to see him again.

She gazes towards Trevor, her expression softening. It’s a look that says, “I thought you could use some help”.

Trevor stands utterly dumbfounded by Sypha’s sudden appearance. Though it doesn’t take much for him to give her a smile in return. He wants to embrace her, to say over and over again how grateful he is to see her at this very moment. Most of all, Trevor wants to apologize for all the times he acted like a rude, jaded, and stubborn arse. So many words getting caught up in his dry throat, so many emotions he kept internalized for months that are begging to come out.

Those words will have to wait. But Trevor and Sypha promise to remain patient with one another. In the meantime, between the two of them, there is much work to be done.

 

* * *

Trevor and Sypha sit in front of the fire, a single fur blanket covering both their bodies. It’s not quite dark outside yet; a soft pink and gold hue still hovers on the far horizon but Sypha is already fast asleep. She huddles underneath the blanket, resting her tired head upon Trevor’s shoulder. Another long day of rebuilding is over and now they celebrate in their own way.

They’ve made quick progress; half of the manor finished including the library with its stone fireplace. After much internal debate, Trevor hung the Belmont Tapestry back in its original place. Perhaps he didn’t have the heart to destroy or try selling it to a local weaver looking for some scraps.

Trevor wraps his arm around Sypha’s shoulders, pulling her closer before he turns back to the dancing flames. He realizes that eventually she’ll have to return to the Speakers. Which is why Trevor cherishes every single moment they’re together. When the time comes for her to leave, he’ll be alright. They both know how to find each other again.

Trevor’s eyes feel heavy. He nearly closes them to join Sypha in the first good sleep they’ve had in a long time until he hears something tapping against the window. It’s light, easily unnoticed, like a spring rain shower. Then it continues faster, harder. Refusing to be ignored. Trevor furrows his brow and lets out an irritated sigh. He stands up, making sure Sypha isn’t disturbed. On the floor she curls into the fetal position, peaceful and comfortable, while Trevor ambles towards the tall window. He pushes it open and comes face to face with a large black bat hovering about.

“Piss off.” Trevor tries shooing away the animal with a lethargic wave of his hand. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work. The bat wails out a fast chorus of frantic squeaks before flying into the room. “Hey! What the hell did I just tell you?” Before Trevor can make an attempt to catch it, the black bat slowly lowers itself towards the floor and disappears into a cloud of mist. Once it dissipates, Trevor wonders if he should apologize for his “piss off” comment.

“Is that any way to greet a visiting friend?” Alucard asks, hovering in the air for a brief moment before landing gracefully.

Trevor knew he would come back. He knew down in his gut when all four of them said their initial goodbyes that even the dhampir couldn’t stay away for very long. “Could’ve just knocked on the front door.” _Then again, you’ve always enjoyed making dramatic entrances._ “Where the hell have you been?”

“Constanta,” Alucard replies. “I had to say my last farewells to our Captain Danasty before he embarks across the Black Sea.”

“Did he say where exactly he was headed?”

“He did not. Only that it felt like the right thing for him to do… and that he misses you.”

Trevor doesn’t say anything at first. The brief mention of their friend’s personal journey is bittersweet yet understandable. Wallachia always seemed too small for someone like Grant Danasty.

“Alucard?” Sypha murmurs in a drowsy tone before throwing off the blanket in a burst of energy. She stands up and rushes into the dhampir’s arms. “You came back!”

“It is good to see you too, Sypha.” Alucard gives her a tight hug, stroking the back of her head. A far cry from their very first meeting in that dark, secluded catacomb. “Apologies for arriving so suddenly and unannounced.”

“We expect nothing less from you.” Sypha responds honestly but with no ill intentions. Meanwhile, Trevor tries to come up with ways to make Alucard stay for as long as possible.

“Um… are you thirsty? Hungry? We just ate dinner, but there’s plenty of food left over…”

Alucard is about to give his answer, but instead goes silent, lowering his gaze to the floor. His calm, neutral expression turns melancholic. “You are both too kind… but I cannot stay for long.”

“Why not?” Sypha asks, a hint of worry in her tone.

“I…” Alucard has rehearsed this speech over a dozen times. Practiced it in different ways and never once did it cause him any internal conflict or regret. He should have realized how much easier it is muttering the words to yourself as opposed to in front of your loved ones. “I have come here to say my final goodbyes as well.”

“Going on a trip too?” Trevor quips.

“No. Tonight is the last night I spend amongst humankind.”

“I… don’t understand…” Trevor begins to fear the worst, as does Sypha. “What’ve you got planned, Alucard?”

“Remember how you found me all those months ago? The sleeping soldier of Gresit, waiting for a hunter and a scholar? I plan to return to that state of eternal slumber.”

“Why? Are you badly injured? Why are you telling us this now?”

Alucard places a gentle hand on Trevor’s shoulder in order to calm him. “No, I do not need to heal from my wounds. Not like the first time I confronted Dracula. But after giving this plan enough thought, I realize there’s no place for me in this world. I have no home, no family, I might as well be a ghost.”

“What about us? What about here? You can live with us, so stop with this “no home and no family” horse shit.”

“Please don’t be foolish, Trevor. If the village people find out that you’ve been offering shelter to the son of Dracula, they will happily burn down your home just as fast as they did the first time.”

“You talk about yourself as though you are the same monster your father was when you are not.” Sypha speaks up.

“Exactly. You helped save Wallachia, you helped kill that bastard and his fucking spawns from hell. The entire plan to storm Dracula’s castle, lodge a stake through his chest, and send his severed head to kingdom come was yours to begin with.”

 _You always have such a way with words, Belmont._ “I know some are grateful for what we have done. But there are just as many who keep their minds and hearts buried in a hateful past.”

Trevor thinks about his next choice of words carefully. As always, impulse takes over. “If anyone comes after you, I’ll kill them.”

Alucard chuckles, amused yet also disconcerted by Trevor’s blunt statement. “I appreciate your protectiveness, I truly do. But what would people say if the redeemed Belmont son suddenly began murdering agitators left and right?”

“I don’t care what people would say.”

“Then perhaps it is time you should.”

“This is not fair,” Sypha interrupts, her voice firm, direct, and unwavering yet filled with emotion. Trevor and Alucard turn to her, waiting patiently for whatever she must say. “I will be honest…” She finally states, staring the dhampir directly in his eyes. “I do not agree with your decision, Alucard. Nor do I like it. Trevor is right; you should stay with us.”

Alucard stares at her, his expression soft yet clearly hurt. “I take no pleasure in this. I will miss both of you more than I will be able to endure it.”

“Then at least stay here for the night.” Trevor offers, choking back his own tears. Something he tried perfecting months ago but now sees no point in continuing.

“I cannot endanger you-“

“Christ, it’s only one night. Please.” There’s so much desperation in his voice, Alucard cannot help but give in. He places his hand upon Trevor’s cheek and wipes away the first couple tears with his thumb. The morning farewells will be no less painful, but Alucard will endure it. He needs one more night spent with his hunter and scholar. One more happy memory he can take with him into eternal rest.

“All right. I will stay until morning.”


End file.
